


Right Within Him

by ashilrak



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: “You're working on a project about reincarnation?” Adler tilted his head, and something about the gesture rang as familiar, “what class is that for?”Adler couldn't be in all of his classes, so Lawrence said the first one that came to mind, “Debate. I'm researching my team’s argument.”Adler smirked, and Lawrence was hit with another pang of familiarity as well as something akin to fond annoyance. Adler said, “the topics this semester are politically centered, and you know as well as I do that the teacher hates reincarnation, and says it isn't even worth debating.”“Why does it matter what I'm working on?”Adler shrugged, “just making conversation.”





	

The words tumbling from his lips the moment he remembered were screams of revolution.

Lawrence Jordan woke up in the middle of night gasping for air with his hands fisting his sheets. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this - wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

Reincarnation was common - for people who needed to live multiple times for the chance of success and a life worth being proud of. The great stars and the people who went down in history weren’t reincarnates, and the great people whose names they learned didn’t keep popping up. Their lives were meant to be as they were, and to be reincarnated was a sign of weakness.

That was what Lawrence had been told time and time again by his father and the teachers at the exclusive boarding school he was sent away to every year. No one in their family had been a reincarnate - their line was strong and worthy all on their own. They had no need for second chances. As was the same with everyone around him.

A reincarnate was a second class citizen in their eyes. Such things were to be declared in applications and on resumes - sources of small talk at mediocre parties. The real work got done by those looking at life with new eyes and fresh minds. 

Lawrence Jordan couldn’t be a reincarnate, and yet there he was heaving with an aching shoulder, senses flooded with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Lawrence bit down on his lip and closed his eyes as he attempted to sort through everything.

There were so many details passing by and fading away, just out of reach. Too many memories were all of a sudden there, and Lawrence couldn’t get a grasp on a single one. He calmed his breaths, and pressed his face into the pillow. 

He couldn’t let anyone know. This was going to have to be a secret he kept to himself. 

Lawrence stayed there for hours, lying still and thinking. As more things became clear, so did a name. He had once been John Laurens - a great man who had ideals and had done some not so great things but still managed to make a name for himself in the revolution. John Laurens was the type of man Lawrence had been told didn’t need to be reincarnated to have a chance.

They were wrong - everyone was wrong. John Laurens needed to be reincarnated, and the proof was right within him. If it wasn’t meant to happen, it wouldn’t have. 

Lawrence swallowed, and let out a deep breath. This was going to have to be a secret - and it was going to have to be a big one. He closed his eyes, and his mind flashed with the faces of those he had known before. Lawrence looked nothing like John Laurens, which meant that chances are he wouldn’t recognize anyone on sight, if he were to run into them.

There had to be others. The common did it all the time - clubs for reincarnates from certain eras and locations. If it worked for them, it would work for Lawrence. He just had to figure out a way to do it for himself. 

Even among the common the people he knew would make the news for being reincarnated. Not only would they be significant, but it would go to prove so many things wrong. Their entire society would be turned on its head. But Lawrence couldn’t be alone, there had to be people around him in the same situation - forced to keep their past secret for fear of discrimination from their peers.

Lawrence got out of bed when his alarm went off, and got dressed as normal. He went to his classes, took notes, spoke to his classmates, and wrote down his assignments. It appeared as if nothing had changed, but his thoughts continued to whir.

He went to the library and grabbed the single biography available on John Laurens. 

So much of it was wrong, but it gave him a way to sort through what he knew. He was John Laurens. He had fought in the Revolutionary War. He had been a terrible father and husband to a woman named Martha, and a lover to a man named Alexander. He died after the war was over.

Lawrence remembered dying, the phantom pain he had woken up with still haunted him at times, the biographies and research told him about the timing.

If anyone noticed anything was off, they didn't say anything. Lawrence would sometimes catch himself walking a certain way, saying something, or doing some sort of gesture that belonged to John Laurens. At first, he'd correct himself, but it kept happening and Lawrence realized he couldn't fight who he was. He accepted the new quirks, and adopted them into who he now was. 

Lawrence figured out a way to deal with it. He wasn't expected home for break for two months, and his friends didn't care enough to poke and prod.

There was a popular debate about education and whether or not it was better to be taught by reincarnates of people who had lived through the wars and literary movements. Lawrence had never formed his own opinion on it - had never cared. His father believed in the firm separation between them and the common. The memories gave him a new perspective, and a sense of age and wisdom that he had never known. For the first time, Lawrence has opinions, and the experiences to support them. 

As far as the world knew, he was a kid living his first life, and he needed to maintain that impression. But something within Lawrence itched for a fight - a feeling he had always been able to push down, but one John Laurens had always embraced. He thought back to the hours spent in tents with the wind whipping at the canvas, and the ache in his hand after writing letter after letter, and essay after essay. Lawrence Jordan couldn't raise a fuss, but he could write under a pseudonym. 

The first time he finished an essay, he smiled and thought of Alexander. 

Lawrence had never been the most observant of men, and neither had John. 

The library was a convenient place to stake out a corner in and write. Lawrence wasn't the most studious, and only put effort into his studies out of obligation. His friends would question him writing in his room or in the common area, but would accept him going off the library with a muttering of his father’s rising expectations. 

There was an unspoken rule in the quieter areas of the library not to bother those around you. Every person was allowed their own space, and tables were shared only when space was in high demand. The area Lawrence chose was empty, and he liked it that way. He had not expected the sound of a chair pulling out, and gave a small yell when a pile of books was slammed on his table. 

He looked up to find someone he vaguely recognized as being in some of his classes. The boy raised his brow and sat down. Lawrence stared at the boy for a moment and said, “uh, who are you?”

“Bartholomew Adler. Don't call me Bartholomew.”

Lawrence nodded, “Okay. Why are you here?”

Adler smiled, “you looked lonely.”

He gestured toward the books on the table, “i’m working. I don't know about you, but I tend to focus better when I'm not distracted.”

“You're working on a project about reincarnation?” Adler tilted his head, and something about the gesture rang as familiar, “what class is that for?”

Adler couldn't be in all of his classes, so Lawrence said the first one that came to mind, “Debate. I'm researching my team’s argument.”

Adler smirked, and Lawrence was hit with another pang of familiarity as well as something akin to fond annoyance. Adler said, “the topics this semester are politically centered, and you know as well as I do that the teacher hates reincarnation, and says it isn't even worth debating.”

“Why does it matter what I'm working on?”

Adler shrugged, “just making conversation.”

Neither of them said another word, and started their work in silence. 

It became a normal thing. Lawrence would go to his spot, and at some point Adler would join him. Adler would always ask him what he was working on, and Lawrence would never answer. He was sure Adler had some suspicions, but no point was ever made to explore them. 

Adler started to bring to-go cups of coffee and snacks when he realized Lawrence didn't eat while working unless prodded. Adler would talk about his day, and Lawrence would nod and hum and shield the computer screen when he tried to lean over and look. The research topic never changed, and Adler continued to make comments. 

At some point they became used to each other, and Lawrence started to seek Adler out in classes and in the hallway. They had somehow become friends, and Lawrence couldn't pinpoint any single moment it happened. The familiarity would hit Lawrence with the force of bullet at some times - a laugh, a tilt of the head, a gesture of the hand. He would shove it down, along with the hope that perhaps Adler was just like him - a hidden reincarnate. 

Adler was an orphan and a trust fund baby, and he lived with his mother’s brother. His father had had connections with top universities, and his grandfather had been a pastor at some sort of megachurch. Adler was the type of friend Lawrence’s father would approve of based on name and background alone, so Lawrence did not hesitate to invite him for break. 

His father had always encouraged him to network with his classmates - it was part of the reason Lawrence went to the school. 

Adler smiled wide and said, “I’d love to.”

Even despite his confidence that his father would approve of his new friendship, Lawrence still held his breath while asking if Adler could stay with them for break. His father asked a couple of pointed questions about Adler, but then agreed, with a promise to send someone to pick them up in a week. 

Dinner was a little awkward with a new face at the table, but Adler charmed everyone without a problem. Adler made the right comments about his own background and gave the right compliments to Mr. Jordan and his home. 

Later that night, long after everyone had fallen asleep, Lawrence and Adler were sitting on the couch of the great room while some action movie played on the tv screen. They were sitting close enough together that were Lawrence’s father to come downstairs, the would have to move apart to avoid any awkward conversation. Adler’s warmth pressed to his side was comforting, and Lawrence let himself lean into it. 

Adler grabbed the remote and turned the volume down on the tv, “Hey, Lawrence, thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem, man. I'm happy I did - it's going to be less boring with you here.”

Lawrence wasn't sure who leaned in first, but one moment they were smiling at each other, and the next they were kissing. 

Lawrence had kissed girls before, and John had kissed boys, but this was something special. Adler was special. 

He pulled away, grinning, “hi.”

Adler smiled back, “hello.”

“Is this going to be a thing?”

“I hope so,” Adler nodded 

“So do I. We have to keep it secret though. My dad won't be happy with this. I think he'd kick me out if he found out.”

Adler adopted a serious expression, “I understand.”

Their secret kisses and stolen moments became another source of pain for Lawrence. It was terrible now, but every time he had to look around a corner to check for his father, he's be hit with the memory of doing the same action over two hundred years ago. 

On those nights where he'd lie in bed, Lawrence would let himself imagine that Adler was also haunted by memories, memories that he himself shared. When he was feeling hopeful, he's let himself dream that Adler was the Alexander he had loved all those years ago. 

Lawrence knew Adler wasn't. Alexander wouldn't have let himself stay hidden, and Lawrence was sure he had dropped enough hints - both on purpose and not - that something would have been said. Besides, the familiar motions Adler made didn't belong to Alexander, who'd always been sharp and distinct. Adler was too graceful - too patient. 

Adler wasn't Alexander, but his eyes had the same weight Lawrence’s own did. It was part of the reason they got along. Adler was older than his years.

They returned to school, and continued to spend hours in the corner of the library, sneaking kisses and holding hands when they were sure they were alone. It was nice, and Lawrence felt happier than he had known. There was just something about being around Adler that made him feel better, more at peace. 

He was writing up more of the essays that remained his not-so-little secret, and Adler was working on some history project, with a stack of biographies on the table. Adler put one on the other side of the table with a groan, “oh my god, I don’t know what to do.”

Lawrence looked up, “what are you working on?”

“I’m supposed to pick a controversial historical person and discuss them,” Adler put his chin in his hand, “and I don’t know who to pick.”

“Is there a time period you’re supposed to pick it from?”

Adler shook his head, “not really. It’s supposed to be American, but that’s it.”

Lawrence shut his computer, “you can probably pick any person that has a biography and say they’re controversial. It’s America.”

“That’s true. Should I pick someone really known or someone less popular?”

Lawrence shrugged, “I don’t know, up to you. Do you think your teacher would be more impressed if you picked someone lesser known?”

“Maybe?”

He grabbed the book off the top of Adler’s pile, “Alright, so this is Jefferson. He was pretty controversial - wrote the declaration of independence and he owned slaves. Why not him?”

“Anderson loves Jefferson - lord knows why - so the moment I start to insult him the paper gets torn into.”

Lawrence set the book aside, “Okay, so how about someone Jefferson hated? Didn’t him and Hamilton have a thing?”

“A thing?” Adler laughed, “sure. But, Anderson hates Hamilton, so the moment I start to talk about him positively the paper gets torn into.”

Lawrence looked at Adler, taking in the sudden gleam in his eyes, “How about someone they both hated? Surely there had to be someone - Hamilton hated everyone at least a little bit, let’s be honest. I don’t know anything about Jefferson except the basics, but I’m pretty sure Hamilton fought everyone, there’s gotta be someone.”

“You’re not wrong.” 

Adler’s smile was wistful, and Lawrence looked at the rest of the books on the table before grabbing one from the bottom of the stack. He grimaced at the cover before offering it to Adler, “How about Burr?”

“I feel like that’s cheating,” Adler shook his head.

Lawrence leaned across the table, “how’s it cheating?”

“I don’t know,” Adler shrugged, “it just is.”

Lawrence shoved the book into Adler’s chest, “Do Burr.”

“No.”

He pushed the book forward with more pressure, “Do it.”

Adler’s eyes were fixated on the wall to the side, and his hand went to the back of his neck, “I’m not doing Burr.”

Lawrence’s mind was filled with the image of the inside of a dimly lit tavern, the sound of laughter and french mutterings echoing in his ears, “Why not, Adler?”

Adler looked at him, eyes sharp, “Why do you want me to do Burr so bad?”

“Well, Jefferson hated him, and the duel is kind of legendary at this point. I don’t think there’s a much more controversial figure you could choose that fits into the parameters, which is especially funny considering how hard he tried to avoid it.” He watched Adler’s eye twitch, and Lawrence felt a sort of realization set in, “you said writing a paper on Burr was cheating.”

Adler nodded, “I suppose.”

“Why is it cheating?”

“Why does it matter?” Adler’s voice was cool, neutral, and the tone all-too-familiar.

Lawrence shrugged, “I don’t know, as your boyfriend I do care about you and the things that are of importance in your life.”

“It’s not that important.”

“Then write your paper on Burr.”

Adler grabbed the book from Lawrence’s hand, “fine.”

He smiled, “Awesome.”

Adler grabbed the rest of the biographies to put them back, and Lawrence sat thinking. He had a hunch, and if he was right, he’d finally have someone to talk to. But, if he was wrong, he could find himself in an awkward situation. You didn’t just go accusing people of being a reincarnation - especially someone from Adler’s background. Lawrence would have to accept any negative reaction, and pray it blew over. It could very well turn around to him, and he could be exposed for what he was.

But, if it was true, he’d have someone who would understand. 

The question was if the risk was worth the reward.

When Adler sat down and pursed his lips as he flipped open the bio - an expression Lawrence had seen too many times as John Laurens, and fallen in love with in this life - the decision was made.

Lawrence took in a deep breath, “So, Adler, what are the chances that you’re the one who killed my boyfriend all those years ago?” 

He cringed, that was not what he had meant to say. Adler tensed, and looked up, “Uh, what?”

He waved his hand through the air, “You know, what was it, 1804?”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yep,” Lawrence popped the p, “surely you knew about that.”

Adler visibly swallowed, “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward and whispered, “You were Aaron Burr, before.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, but what do you mean I killed your boyfriend?”

Lawrence smiled and kissed Adler on the nose, “I was John Laurens. I’ve been suspecting you were someone for a while, but I wasn’t sure if that was just me hoping. But then there were times you seemed really familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It makes sense, considering we were never that close.”

“John Laurens?” Adler’s eyes widened, “You had a thing with Hamilton?”

He shrugged, “just read the letters, man, they’re not hard to find.”  
“Holy shit.”

“That about sums it up,” he kissed Adler’s nose again and leaned back and sat down, “so, were you Aaron Burr?”

Adler nodded, “Yeah, I was.”

“Cool.”

Adler looked back down at the book, “Does that make this weird? That we’re dating?”

Lawrence shook his head, “Nope, not unless you want it to be. I mean, we started dating before we knew, didn’t we? Sure, we might have had suspicious - I’m sure you only sat with me the first time because of the reincarnation stuff and you were curious.”

Adler shrugged, “Sorry, not sorry.”

“Do you want it to be weird?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not,” Lawrence smiled wider.

Nothing really changed between them, and Lawrence couldn’t be happier. It only brought them closer, and Adler started to help him with the essays - making a comment about doing the same for Hamilton when he was asked. They started to talk about their past, and would sometimes see something that was only funny to them.

Lawrence could see a future ahead of them, and wondered if they were alone. At night, he’d lie awake and wonder what would happen if he met Alexander now. He was happy with Adler, more than he could describe, but there was a part of his heart that would always belong to Hamilton. Alexander had grown though, without him. He had no doubt changed, and reincarnation would only add to that. 

He would have to say his greeting, and hold Adler closer to him in an attempt to shield his heart.

Lawrence verbalized his thoughts to Adler once, “Hey babe, do you think other people are with us? I mean, if we’re both here? Why not others? All of our contemporaries - the people we fought with.”

Adler had sighed, “We can only wait and see.”

“Imagine what we could do. For us, for everyone. Public opinion on reincarnation would probably change if Washington showed up, don’t you think?”

Adler had pressed a kiss to his temple and said, “We can only wait and see, but it shall be with anticipation and hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a bit of a writing funk lately, so I've reverted back to reincarnation in an attempt to get back into it.
> 
> Please feel free to come pester me at my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com/) :^))
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


End file.
